Free Pride (Bareknuckle Boxing Brotherhood Book 3) by Cara Nelson Page B

through her and made her toes curl. He sat beside her on the lump mattress, lifting her hair and kissing the back of her neck.
    Camila stopped him and looked in his eyes. It was a mistake, the mistake of her life. She knew it instantly. Even if they stopped that minute and he walked out, she’d never forget the way he was looking at her. Not like she was some body he found attractive, that he was about to take pleasure from. Like he saw her, like he felt something for her, a breathless compassion and closeness that struck her in the chest. She clutched at him, wrapping her arms around him and holding him tight.
    “Don’t look at me like that. Don’t look at me at all,” she breathed.
    “I like looking at you.”
    She shook her head. “No. Not like that. Not making me think this is more than it is. I’m not stupid, Bronny.”
    “I never thought you were.”
    “I’m starting to think I am.”
    “You need to quit thinking so much,” he said, loosening her arms from around his neck and kissing her cheek, her chin, the corner of her mouth, “Because this is more than it is.”
    “Bronny—I thought we were up here to have a good time, not have a serious talk.”
    “You’ve already had a good time, if I recall, and there’s more in a while. But you have to know I’m not coming upstairs with you for an hour of fun and leaving off at that.”
    “You’re not?”
    “I want you to stay here. In Murrawallen.”
    “And I’m to do what, then? Wait tables at Cucina Crap in Kilmuck? I don’t have the money to keep this joint open with two mortgages. I got fired, my job back in Newark, when I called to ask for more time off. I don’t even have my crap job to go back to. I’ve got no prospects. I want a restaurant of my own, not a double mortgage in Potatoville with—”
    “With me,” he finished bleakly.
    “I like you. I just can’t dump my life and my plans and rely on you to make me happy. It doesn’t work like that. It doesn’t even work at all.”
    “You could stay here and run the Cheek.”
    “I told you, second mortgage. The first one, well, the profits will make the payment on that, but my dad owed more than that. I can’t afford the payments. And it’s not like I have thirty grand laying around.”
    “That’s what you need? What if I could…what if you could pay off the second mortgage? Would you stay?”
    “There’s no point talking about it. It’s not going to happen. My dad didn’t hide cash in the floorboards. I checked.” She snorted.
    “What if you let me worry about that? Just tell me you’d stay.”
    “No. You’re not paying off my mortgage—not that I think being a backwoods lawyer pays that well. I just wanted you to make me forget for a little while.”
    “I don’t just want a little while. I want more.”
    “You can’t have more,” she said bluntly, feeling oddly choked up, “You can only have tonight. So do you want me, or are you going to keep talking about commitment and codependence?”
    “A fighter knows when to change weapons.” He grinned and pulled her against the length of him.
    “I thought you fought with your bare hands.”
    “I do,” he said, stripping off her t-shirt and running his left hand up her rib cage and down her back.
    Bronny unhooked her bra with one hand. Her breasts spilled into his hands, full and warm and responsive. He kissed her neck while his thumbs stroked her nipples. She made a small noise as her nipples elongated and hardened under the onslaught of his fingers rubbing and pinching. She was achy and sensitive, making a needy pull start between her legs again. She pressed her bare stomach against his, parting her legs and rubbing against his thigh. Camila pushed his shorts down and took him in her hand, hard and thick. All she could think of was moving up and down the length of him, and she stroked him, feeling him get rock hard in her fingers.
    Bronny took her mouth with his, his tongue sweeping into her mouth as he tugged her